27. Chapter 27
Chapter 27
Sylvie
When I woke up to heavy rain and gray skies the next morning, I should’ve known what kind of day it would be. The world came into focus as I peeled my eyelids open. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the more intoxicating smell of Drakos and sex on his bedsheets. I rolled over and found him dressed and perched on the edge of the mattress, watching me carefully.
“Good morning,” I croaked, my voice still scratchy with sleep.
“That remains to be seen,” he replied enigmatically, his serious, piercing gaze locked on me.
“Oh, God, what now? Please don’t tell me there’s more bad news,” I groaned, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from my eyes with the heels of my hands.
“Ivan called. He wants us to come over to his loft.” His tone dropped an octave. “The OutKast MC had church last night, and what you did to Carver riled them up.”
We knew this would happen. Hell, we wanted it to happen. I sighed and swung my legs over the side of the bed, my feet hitting the cold floor. "Give me twenty minutes to clean up and pour coffee down my throat. Before coffee, I hate everyone. After coffee… well, I can at least tolerate them.”
His lips tipped up, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. When I walked out to the kitchen buttoning up my shirt, Drakos handed me coffee the way I liked it and a toasted English muffin to go.
“Thank you.” I took a sip and then a bite. “Remember when weekend mornings were all about cartoons and sugar cereal?” I mused.
“My weekends consisted mainly of horse riding lessons or math camps. Anything to get me out of my mother’s hair.”
I studied him. “That kind of sucks. I was pretty much a free-range kid since my mother didn’t have it in her to micromanage me.”
He smiled softly and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m not surprised you were a wild child. Come on, let’s go see what Ivan has to show us.” We walked down to the garage and used the door linking Ivan and Drakos’s spaces. “Brace yourself,” Drakos warned as he held the door open. “Ivan’s loft is a hacker’s paradise.”
Drakos wasn't kidding. Ivan's space reminded me of walking into the computer section of a Best Buy store on steroids. One wall was dedicated entirely to monitors—more screens than I could count at a glance—each flickering with code or surveillance feeds. Another wall held shelves full of gadgets and gizmos.
“Hey,” Ivan grunted, not bothering to look away from one of the screens, his fingers dancing across the keyboard. “Don't mind the mess.”
Sipping my coffee, I gazed around. “It looks like a tech store threw up in here.” The space along the back wall held computer monitors and laptops, but there was an oversized, expensive-looking couch in the living area and an urban industrial feel to the rest of the loft.
“Peaches said something like that too.” Ivan’s lip quirked.
I studied him. “Why do you call her that? She hates it.”
A ghost of a grin flitted across his face, his beard almost hiding it. “I know.” He finally turned to face us. “I can’t wrap my head around what you and your lunatic cousins did to that asshole. It’s barbaric, ingenious warfare. You’re all goddamn nuts, you know that?”
Drakos folded his arms. “Quit being impressed and show us what you have.”
Ivan smirked, then turned to the monitor in front of him and clicked on a video feed. The feed showed several angles of a large, open room with a bar on one wall, mismatched tables pushed together to create a makeshift conference table, and chairs scattered around the grungy room.
Several men sat or stood around the tables, all in their leather cuts. I recognized Terrance LeBaron and one of his grunts, with Billy Grolier standing next to his brother, Axel, on the other side of the table.
“This is their latest church meeting,” Ivan muttered as he typed. “It shouldn’t surprise you that the House of Spades was the main topic this week.”
I nodded. “What was the consensus?”
He shrugged. “There wasn’t one. Some of them want to burn down your businesses and homes, and they specifically want you. Most of them have enough brain cells to be afraid, and you were smart to add the video clip of Carver bragging about assaulting Camilla with Samuel. Some of them—especially those with families and daughters—were fuckin’ livid about the rape. It’s causing a rift in the club. How’s your girl doing? I’m sorry about what happened.”
Shaking my head, I watched the screen. “Not well, but thank you.”
Ivan patted my shoulder and restarted the video. We listened to their gruff voices arguing about whether or not to avenge Carver. A few of them wanted to kidnap me, and maybe one of my cousins. Most of their ideas involved rape, knives, and then a bullet through my head.
“They don’t have a lot of imagination, do they?” I muttered. Ivan smirked and Drakos ground his teeth.
The MC club meeting continued to play out on the monitor, casting an eerie glow over Ivan’s face. “The consensus is they don’t come after you for now, and Grolier meets with Fennick to try and call a truce. I wouldn’t count on LeBaron following orders though.”
“Maybe Fenn had the right idea to just blow up their compound and salt the ground,” I muttered.
Ivan leaned back and folded his arms. “I’m not gonna lie, I’m starting to like that idea.”
“Do you know which cousin they're thinking about targeting?" Drakos asked, his gaze never leaving the screen.
Ivan nodded. “Declan or maybe Callum. They think because those two aren’t involved in the day-to-day Spade ground operations, they’re less dangerous.”
I rolled my eyes. They could be almost as unhinged as Fenn, they just hid it better. The meeting on the screen erupted into shouts when Grolier put his foot down against coming after us.
“You stupid shits,” he muttered loudly at the dissenters. “The Spades have more connections and money than fucking God himself. They play dirty, and they’re avenging their own. Do you wanna be next?” He pointed at the video on his computer he’d shown them with Carver’s face swarming in flies.
“We gotta do somethin’, man!” one of the members yelled.
Axel ran a hand down his face. “You’re a fuckin’ idiot. We started this mess when Eightball and Carver raped one of the employees’ kids . We need to cut ties with Whitlock and make peace with the Spades.”
More shouting erupted, and LeBaron stepped forward. “I haven’t seen my son since just after he fucked that little piece.”
“He raped her, man,” Axel bit out. “Even if she agreed, which we all know she didn’t, it’d still be statutory rape.”
LeBaron ignored Axel and stared at Billy with dead eyes. “He said she was willin’. If the Club doesn’t avenge him, I will.”
Grolier’s eyes narrowed and several men shifted nervously. I could finally see why Grolier was their president. “She was barely fifteen years old, there’s no fuckin’ way she said yes to being gang raped.”
“You callin’ me a liar?” Terrance asked softly.
Grolier didn’t flinch. “I’m callin’ your son a liar. Are you defying me, Terrance? And if we do take on the House of Spades, are you ready to tangle with The Firm as well?”
Terrance stared at Grolier, hate and frustration burning in his eyes. “No. But I am reminding you that Samuel was your MC brother.” A few men muttered, but others nodded. Lines were being drawn, and I wondered how long before their club imploded from the inside.
“Drakos Creed ain't gonna do shit,” Terrance sneered. “He’s using her. Sylvie Spade is a witch and a harlot. Besides, he spends most of his free time chasing premium grade tail at that fucking club. He’s not gonna give it up for some creepy bitch who plays with dead bodies, no matter how good-looking or tight her ass is.”
My hands clenched, and I struggled not to punch the computer screen. There was something ugly and unsettling about having my life denigrated by that Bible-quoting, psychotic gang member.
“I’m going to kill that fucker one day,” Drakos murmured softly.
Ivan glanced at me and patted my shoulder. “His information about Drakos and The Emporium is old, and you’re not creepy.”
“But I’m a bitch?”
He grinned. “Don't let him get under your skin.”
Drakos wrapped his arm around me from behind. “I have a plan, and you’re going to agree.”
I relaxed into him as we watched the bikers wrap up their meeting. “You already have Milo watching out for me. My family and I will figure out the rest.”
Ivan ended the video, and Drakos turned me around and took my hands. “We’re getting married.”
The words hung in the air between us. Maybe I’d misunderstood.
“Married?” I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. “That’s an interesting joke to play at a time like this.”
He shook his head. “It’s not a joke.”
“You think us getting married is going to deter them?”
“I do. Symbolically, it's a powerful statement and gives you the added protection of The Firm. It worked for Roman and Luna, and LeBaron would have to be suicidal to still come after you.” I was so shocked, I just stared up at him with my mouth open.
“Why… why would you do this?” I finally choked out.
“Because it’s the best way to keep you safe, and it shows them you have our full protection.”
If that was the reason he wanted to marry me, we were doomed. “No way, not like that. It’s a horrible idea, and what happens after the threat is over?” Memories of my mother's multiple marriages and my father's treatment of her swirled in my mind. The last thing I wanted was for Drakos to feel forced into being with me.
His blue eyes went flat. “This is about your survival. And this way, we can’t be compelled to testify against each other if it comes to that.”
“You want us to get married so we have spousal immunity.” My heart squeezed. Drakos only wanted to marry me so we couldn’t be forced to testify against each other? Ivan let out a sigh and gave Drakos a disappointed glance.
I pulled away and looked down to hide my hurt. Straightening my shoulders, I turned back to him. “I appreciate the offer. But marriage? That's like fighting fire with gasoline. I've seen how marriages end, Drakos, and it's usually not with 'happily ever after.'”
“Roman protected Luna by marrying her and tying her to us. I’m going to do the same for you. Before you say no, think about it.” His face was blank.
Fuck! Tears pricked the backs of my eyes, but I wouldn’t let him see me cry. I nodded, suddenly needing time and distance. Anything to get away from him.
“Fine. I’ll think about it.” And say no later.
He stared at me like he knew exactly what I was thinking. “Don’t ditch Milo again, or there will be consequences.”
The need to cry vanished, and my eyes narrowed. “I don’t want or need—”
Ivan sighed loudly. “Sylvie, you just heard half the OutKast MC talk about wanting to torture and kill you. You’re not dumb, so don’t ditch your bodyguard just to get under Drakos’s skin. Although I understand the appeal.” He turned to Drakos. “And for being so smart, you’re a lame dumbass. If someone proposed to me like that, I’d tell them to fuck right off.”
Drakos and I glared at each other for several seconds. Letting out a long breath, I loosened my shoulders and rolled my neck. “It’s fine. I’m fine, it’s all good. God, I need way more coffee than just this little cup.” I turned and headed back to Drakos’s loft.
Drakos didn’t come back before I left—with Milo in tow—to go find Ezra. I needed to tell him what we’d done to Carver, and then ask him for advice. When we pulled up to Ezra’s house, the familiar sight of his sprawling, squat, ranch-style home brought an ache to my chest.
Milo scanned the street. “I’ll wait out here. Text me when you’re ready.”
I nodded and headed inside. The smell of roast beef and sage wafted out of the kitchen when I let myself in. We didn’t have a funeral that day, but Ezra still wore a cashmere sweater and dress slacks.
He scanned my face and looked out the window to see Milo sitting in the driveway. “You look upset, and you didn’t ditch your bodyguard. What’s going on?”
Managing a weak smile, I spontaneously hugged him. “I need some advice.”
His eyebrows went up. “You’re not ill, are you? What’s wrong?”
Sighing, I followed him into the kitchen. “No, just confused, worried, annoyed, and… confused. I said that one twice, didn’t I?”
We settled at the kitchen bar and Ezra put a plate of homemade snickerdoodles and coffee in front of us. Then he turned to me. “Out with it. You’ve got that look.”
“What look?”
“The uncomfortable one you and your cousins get when you're about to tell me you've either buried another body out in the cemetery, or one of your cousins needs to use the crematory again.”
“Okay, so we didn’t blow up the OutKast compound.” I figured I’d start with the good news.
He watched me patiently. “What did you do in retaliation?”
“Remember Carver? The one who came with LeBaron to the mortuary? He was also there when they tried to burn it down.”
“Yes. What about him?”
“We handled him, and also sent a message.”
“Handled him?” Ezra's eyebrow arched, but he didn't seem particularly surprised. “Handled as in scared him off, or he’s no longer on this mortal plane?”
“The latter.”
He sighed. “What’d you do?”
Damn it, I hated it when he used his calm, vaguely disappointed voice on me. “We put him in a casket and fed him sugary Starbucks drinks.”
He stared at me. “For how long?”
I stuffed a cookie in my mouth and mumbled something.
He waited until I’d chewed and swallowed. “What was that?”
“Eight days.”
He sat back, and I could see his mind working. “My goodness, what did he do to deserve that?”
“He was with Eightball, and he raped Camilla too.”
Ezra groaned, almost like he was in pain, and I grabbed his hand. “We didn’t plan to kill him, but he bragged about it.”
Slowly, he got up and poured us both a glass of water, then he sat and patted my hand. “I would’ve done the same.”
“There’s more,” I confessed. Then I told him about sending the time-lapse video to the OutKast members. “Drakos wasn’t happy, but he has some ideas about how to keep me safe.”
“You sent them a video ?” He palmed his forehead. “Why would you do that?”
“It started with Carver bragging about the gang rape, and we needed to send a strong message.”
Ezra stood and walked into the kitchen. He returned a minute later with a bottle of whiskey and antacid tablets. “What do you need advice for?”
“Drakos proposed. Sort of.”
He stared at me, then poured a shot of whiskey into both our coffee cups and took a drink. “I’m not sure if that’s something you can ‘sort of’ do.”
I grabbed another cookie and started breaking it apart. “He says it’ll give us marital immunity if we were subpoenaed to testify, and a marriage between us would give me The Firm’s protection. Just like Luna.”
“Hmm. Both of those things are true. But in my opinion, a man like him doesn’t throw the idea of marriage out just for protection or immunity. I also think it’s working well for Luna and Roman.”
“It never did for my mother,” I countered, taking a sip of my own whiskey.
He gazed at me. “You aren’t your mother, and sometimes marriage does work out. What your grandmother and I had comes maybe once in a lifetime, and perhaps not even then. If there’s a chance you and Drakos could have something like that, it's worth considering.”
“I came here thinking you’d tell me it’s a horrible idea.”
He shrugged. “Maybe it is. But what if it isn’t?”
For a brief moment, I allowed myself to imagine building a life with Drakos, and being married to him. It didn’t look like a prison sentence. But then my father’s face swam in my mind, and the image shattered.
I sighed, looking down at the destroyed cookie. "Thanks, Grandpa. You always know how to make things more complicated.”
“It comes with age,” Ezra smiled softly. “Just promise me you'll think about it with your heart, not just your head. I loved your mother with every breath in my body, but you are not her. Promise me you won’t close yourself off to a chance at real love.”
I couldn’t promise him that, so I squeezed his hand back and smiled. “I love you, Grandpa.”
He patted my cheek and kissed my forehead. I walked out a few minutes later, the ghosts of my past whispering at me.